


Walking After You

by wicked_writings



Category: Slipknot
Genre: Anal Sex, Friends to Lovers, Little bit of angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-12
Updated: 2012-07-12
Packaged: 2017-11-09 20:43:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/458174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wicked_writings/pseuds/wicked_writings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on an interview Mick and Joey did together at Download (?) several years ago. And Joey wants to take things further, he's not just sure if Mick wants to as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: This is a work of FICTION. As far as I am aware, this never happened (except in my dirty little mind, and you don't want to go there). I have no association with any of the people featured in this made-up story and I make no money from its publication. And yes, I am very ashamed.

Mick stood impassively, his hands clasped in front of him. No one could see his face under his mask, and he gave nothing away with his body language. It added to his 'mystique' of course, the strong and silent type of the band. In size, he easily dwarfed the others around him. His physique was intimidating, and much to his pleasure, he'd seen the interviewers eye him up suspiciously as they'd approached. His grin was invisible beneath his mask.

He'd been asked at the last minute to fill in for Paul, who'd had a problem with his bass and needed to fix it before showtime. Not willing to go it alone, he'd roped in Joey, who'd long ago sworn off doing interviews and needed a fair bit of convincing before he caved in. It was only because Mick was a close friend that Joey broke his vow, and he'd had to make it clear to their management it was a one-off.

They stood in front of the cameras now, and bizarrely were there 3 interviewers. Mick wasn't too sure what they were planning, and just wished they could get it over and done with so he could head backstage and down several cans of beer. He was bored, and half hoping Joey could do all the talking. After all, it was something that the drummer was prodigiously good at.

“We're on!” Mick heard one of the monkeys behind the camera call out. _Finally._  
Thankfully, the dude with the microphone seemed quite happy to speak to Joey, who was closest to him, so Mick let his mind drift. It was a nice day, there were plenty of fucking awesome bands to see, crates of free alcohol to drown himself in, and he was standing here with a bunch of jerks. Not Joey, of course.

“What's your name?” the interviewer asked Joey, having to bend slightly to be able to talk to him. Mick smiled wryly. Joey barely came up to his chest, and Mick had sometimes in jest blamed his back troubles on Joey's height.

“Joey,” his friend replied.

“And where are you from?”

“Uh, Des Moines, Iowa.”

Mick stiffened as the two interviewers in front of them started to giggle. He knew damn well what they were laughing about, and the fury rose inside him. How fucking dare they. If he wasn't on camera, and if it wasn't illegal to punch the lights out of someone, the two bastards would be on the floor.

The interviewer beside Joey had asked him another question, which Mick missed as the blood rose and beat in his ears. He'd apparently quit with the condescending questions, but he could hear Joey's voice wavering. It was clear he'd seen what Mick had too, and was trying hard not to let the embarrassment affect him. Mick wished he could do more, but what?

He grit his teeth, breathing heavily. His fingernails dug into his palms as he curled his fists in frustration, and he had to shift on the spot to relieve some of the tension he felt. The conversation had moved on and he tried to concentrate, but it didn't diminish the anger that simmered inside him.

There'd been a time when he and Joey had hardly been able to stand being in the same room. Their swollen egos would cause them to come into conflict quite often, and more than once the drummer had threatened to quit because of an argument he'd had with Mick. Shawn had grown frustrated with them and told them in no uncertain terms to sort their shit out, which they'd done reluctantly. Instead of arguing, they settled for ignoring each other completely.

Eventually, the months and years had matured them. The egos died slowly, and professionalism took over. Mick acknowledged Joey's talent, and what he'd done for the band. Joey started to compliment his guitar playing, even asked him to collaborate on a few songs. Before they knew it, the barriers had been torn down, and without even realising, they became friends.

It didn't take much for Mick to become fiercely protective of Joey. He knew damn well the drummer could take care of himself, but there were times that his size became an issue, not for the band but for arseholes around them. And at those times, Mick was always there. Before Joey had to take on a permanent bodyguard, Mick would be the one who'd plow through the throngs of fans outside hotels and behind the venues, leading him through.

For Mick, his own size hadn't come with a temper that people assumed he had because of it. He was reasonably easy going, and could take a lot on the chin, but when he was pushed, he'd push right fucking back. Right now, the idiots in front of him were asking for it.

Joey wasn't a damn kid.  
Sure, he was short, and tiny compared to everyone around him. But to _laugh_ at him because of it? Why was it so fucking amusing? The thoughts wouldn't stop beating through Mick's head.

He was reluctantly drawn into the interview, and tried to pretend everything was fine. He saw Joey glance up him, and couldn't help but smile before he realised Joey couldn't see. Damn the fucking masks. He suspected his friend thought something wasn't quite right, but they couldn't very well start up their own conversation in the middle of an interview.

Mick thought he controlled his temper quite well. By all accounts, the interviewers were still standing at the end, despite his ill-wishes that they weren't. Mick felt like spitting at the grins on their faces as they thanked them, and made sure to put all his muscle into the handshakes. To his sordid pleasure, the bastard who'd laughed the most seemed quite shocked after their handshake and Mick hoped like hell he'd broken his hand.

Wanting to get away before he did something he'd regret, Mick turned and headed for Slipknot's backstage area. Dimly, he heard Joey call after him in surprise, asking him to wait up. There was little he wouldn't do for Joey, so he stopped and turned, the drummer sprinting to catch up.

“Mick, you ok?” Joey asked in concern as he reached him. Mick seemed upset, and Joey wished he knew what was wrong.

“I'm fine,” Mick grunted. He didn't want to remind Joey of the experience, and hurt him even more. Abruptly he started up again, and Joey followed, taking two steps for one of his.

*

Mick disappeared not long after they reached the others, taking a bottle of bourbon with him. Joey watched him go, suspecting Mick didn't want company. Something had happened to him, but Joey respected his privacy and didn't follow. Instead, he took a seat in the corner of the room and watched the others around him, feeling somewhat despondent. He resisted the alcohol, knowing he didn't play as well when he was drunk. He could sure damn well do with some though.

“What's up?” Corey asked, sitting down next to him. He had a polystyrene cup of coffee in one hand and a glass of what appeared to be whiskey in the other. Joey decided not to ask.

“Nothing,” he said, shrugging and sighing.

“You don't seem very happy,” Corey pointed out, his eyebrows raised. He took a sip of the whiskey and then one of the coffee. Joey felt his stomach turn.

“It's nothing, really,” Joey insisted. He just didn't feel like talking to Corey and wished Mick was around. The guitarist was one of the few people in the world Joey felt he could really open up to. He wasn't very happy, and it had everything to do with that interview, but he knew Corey wouldn't understand.

“Sure,” Corey replied, sounding somewhat put out. He decided to change tack. “Need some coffee?” he asked, holding the mug up.

“Uh... I'll be fine, thanks. Is that whiskey?”

“Yup!” Corey burped, and took another sip of each. He watched with amusement at the look of horror on Joey's face. “Really, it's not so bad. It's an acquired taste, ya know. You oughta try it.”

“I'll pass.”

“Sure,” Corey repeated. “I gotta go. There are some good-looking chicks over there.” And with that, he was gone.

Joey shook his head at the whirlwind that was Corey, and settled back into his seat. He turned so his shoulder was digging into the chair, and pulled his knees up so his feet were resting on the seat next to him. He wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his head on the wall, suddenly feeling quite tired. Despite the hustle and bustle and noise around him, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

*

He was dozing fitfully when he felt someone thump into the chair beside him.

“Joey? You awake?” It was Mick. But he knew that before he heard his voice.

“I am now,” Joey mumbled. He yawned, blinked his eyes, and sat up. Seeing as Mick was behind him, due to his being sideways, he laid his head onto his shoulder, feeling himself cheer up suddenly.

“Sorry,” Mick said, peering down at him.

“'Tis ok,” Joey said, smiling up at him. “Where you been?”

“Just went for a walk. Saw a few bands. Got assaulted by a few fans. The usual.”

Joey laughed at the thought. “Must have been terrifying. Especially because you didn't have me there to save you.”

He heard Mick chuckle. “Yeah, well... it would have been nicer if you were there. It's why I came back.”

Joey swallowed. There was something about what Mick had just said and the way he'd said it that made him feel strange. He didn't know quite what to say. It wasn't an uncomfortable pause, but he wished he could think of something to say that didn't make him sound like a geek.

Awkwardly, he twisted his fingers around each other and the material of his pants, as if to distract himself. He felt Mick twist behind him, and sat up slightly so he wasn't a dead weight. Mick stopped when he was facing into Joey, his chest pressing to Joey's back. The drummer felt a hand at his waist, and relaxed.

“Joey, what's wrong?” Mick's voice was quiet, his mouth pressed close to Joey's ear. His hand crept up to enclose Joey's, stopping his fidgeting. “Is it what I said?”

Joey shook his head. “No.... well, not really.” He sighed and tucked his head into the crook of Mick's neck. “It's... a lot of things. Those guys...”

“I know. You have no idea how much I wanted to hurt them.”

Joey was shocked at the venom in Mick's voice. He started, and then tried to twist around to face him. But in their current position, it was impossible. Mick seemed to understand him.

“The way they laughed at you. I hated it. I hated them. I wanted to pull you out of there and take you away.” Mick's voice softened suddenly, and the strange feeling returned to Joey's stomach. He couldn't help but grab at Mick's hand.

“Really?” Joey asked quietly, studying their entwined hands.

“Yeah.”

“You should have.”

Mick chuckled quietly. “Next time, I will. But not before I give them what they deserve. They had no right to do that. They were acting like dicks.”

“I would have liked to have seen you kick their arses,” Joey said, almost cheerfully. He was starting to feel a lot better.

“Ha! I'll have absolute pleasure in doing so. Now....” Mick paused for a moment. “Do you want to come out with me and enjoy the sunshine? Check out a few bands?”

Joey didn't have to be asked twice.


	2. Chapter 2

Joey wandered around happily with Mick, pushing their way through the crowd and stopping every now and again to watch a band or sign a few autographs. It was a pleasant day; not too hot and not too cold. He forgot about the morning's interview as he lost himself in the festival atmosphere, and by the time they ventured backstage again he was nervous with excitement for their show later tonight.

He wasn't the only one. As it crept closer and closer to their on-stage time, the buzz grew and grew until the whole place was virtually electric. The crowd had started to call for Slipknot while there was still three bands to go, and as Joey heard their screams he could feel shivers running down his spine. Goosebumps pricked at his skin, and he rubbed his arms anxiously.

Footsteps behind him made him turn. “Hey Mick!”

“Joey. How you feeling?” The wry smile on Mick's face gave away that he was expecting the drummer to be on his knees, throwing up with nervousness.

“Alright. For now.”

“'For now,'” Mick echoed. “How's your stomach?”

“Doing backwards flips and trying to escape, I think.”

Mick laughed. “You'll be fine.”

“Are you kidding? Have you seen how many people there are out there?” Joey's voice rose.

“Yes, I have. And we've played to crowds this big before. Some, even bigger. Come here,” he said, holding out his hand. Joey took it and felt himself being pulled into a hug. He closed his eyes tight, clinging to Mick. “And you... you're got the record for the most performances at Download. You should be used to it.”

“Yes... but... not headlining. This is different!” Joey exclaimed, his voice muffled against Mick's chest.

“No, Metallica was headlining when you played for them in 2004. And wasn't that even more nerve wracking? You fucking blew them away,” Mick pointed out.

“I guess....” Joey felt Mick's arms tighten around him, and for a moment the nervousness and the anxiety melted away. He wished he could stay there forever, safe and comfortable. But nothing lasted forever.

“Come on. Let's go get something to eat, ok? If you can keep it down,” Mick said teasingly.  
Joey just rolled his eyes and followed.

*

Joey managed to choke down half a burger before the ominous rumbling from his stomach told him to stop.

“You ok?” Mick asked when he saw the pale look on Joey's face.

“Yeah... I'm alright,” Joey mumbled. “Just give me a minute.” He tried not to watch as Mick devoured another burger and pinched all of his fries. He just couldn't understand how Mick could be so calm. In an hour they would be taking the stage for one of the biggest shows of their careers and the guitarist was acting like it was just another day at the office.

After Mick had drowned both his and Joey's sodas, they headed for their dressing room. It was crowded with not just the rest of Slipknot but various roadies, crew members, management, festival aides, and to Joey's disgust, groupies. They didn't have a place in the dressing room before the show, and much to his relief, Shawn shared the same opinion. He kicked them out, ignoring their protests. Sid watched them go with a sad frown, and Joey had to laugh.

“They'll come back afterwards Sid, don't worry,” he teased.

“They'd better,” the DJ said morosely. “The brunette had huge tits.” His frown only deepened at the resultant peals of laughter.

Mick and Joey had been dressed in their stage get up and masks for the interview, but had changed soon after, not wanting to spend the whole day being both mobbed and boiling. Now, they pulled their outfits off the hangers and their masks from their protective road cases. Joey couldn't help but stare as Mick stood there shirtless, his tattoos standing out on his muscled and defined upper body. In comparison, he felt tiny and weedy.

“Hey,” Mick called, flicking his shirt at him. “Cheer up.”

Joey just smiled, hoping Mick didn't realise what was running through his mind. He turned his attention to his own gear, and started to undress reluctantly.

He didn't realise Mick was watching him in much the same way as he had done, and how much the positions were reversed. Mick couldn't help but feel the drummer was perfect, and he himself far too big and obtrusive. He shook his head at his thoughts, trying to concentrate on getting himself dressed. Now wasn't the time to be eyeing up Joey.

*

5 minutes to show time. The screams and calls from the crowd were momentous, flooding the backstage area. Joey tried to swallow down his nervousness, but failed miserably. Mick followed him as he took off, pushing his way through a group of techs.

“Joey!”  
Mick was calling after him, but all Joey could think about was not throwing up in front of all the people watching them. He pushed through a curtain dividing inside and out, stumbling onto a bare stretch of grass. He barely managed to push his mask out of the way before he vomited, his stomach heaving.

“Joey.” Mick's quiet voice came from behind him, and he felt the guitarist's hands stroking his back. Hot tears were pricking at his eyes and he rubbed them away, ashamed now.

“Joey, it's ok.”

The drummer didn't have words to speak. Mick pulled him into a hug.

“Everything's gonna be fine, Joey. You're gonna fucking kill it out there.”

“I don't wanna mess up,” Joey admitted.

“You won't, Jordison. You're one of the best drummers in the world for a reason. Now, come on. They'll be waiting.”

Joey followed Mick back to the others, joining them for the huddle. Much to his relief no-one stared or said anything. Perhaps, because they were used to it. The day when he didn't throw up before a show would be the day he needed to retire, because he would have lost the love, desire and passion he had for his job.

He adjusted his mask for the last time, gripped the drumsticks his tech handed to him, shuffled nervously on the spot. There was a lot going on around him as they prepared to go onstage, and he studied it all, feeling somewhat like he was high above looking down on it all. There was a disconnection he felt that he experienced quite often before shows, as if it was all going on without him.

“Joey, you ready?” His bodyguard's voice boomed close to him, and he turned to face him.

“Yeah. I think,” he said shakily. There was nothing else he could think of he needed to do. Now, his nerves were building and he just wanted to get out on stage and get behind his kit. That was HIS space, where everything made sense and he was in control. The first beat of stick against drum always eliminated his nerves, and he entered his own world where nothing could touch him.

It was Matt's job to accompany him onto the stage and make sure everything was ready for him. Joey stood close to him now, waiting for the go ahead from the stage manager. The other members crowded around too, eager to get going. The chants of 'Slipknot! Slipknot!' were regular and loud, and the energy that came from the crowd was palpable even backstage. His heart began to beat maniacally in his chest.

“Slipknot! 20 seconds till stage time!” came a call from the manager, and Joey could feel everyone tense up.

“Joey,” said a quiet voice from his side. He turned to see Mick, and smiled beneath his mask.

“Hey!”

Mick didn't say anything, just gave him a quick and comforting hug. “You're gonna be fantastic,” he whispered into Joey's ear before letting him go again. Mick was gone before Joey could gather his thoughts and thank him.

_“FIVE! FOUR! THREE! TWO! ONE! SLIPKNOT ON!”_

The roar of the crowd deafened Joey as he followed the others onto the stage. He barely had time to glance over the vast sea of people before Matt steered him towards his kit. Joey stumbled onto his drumming stool, taking in his kit that stood gleaming menacingly in front of him. The din faded away as he grasped his sticks, and he felt his heart beat start to settle.

“You got water, Powerade and bitters down here. Setlist there. You need anything else?” Matt asked, all business-like.

Joey couldn't open his mouth to speak, so settled for shaking his head.

“Good. If you do need anything, you know I'm just behind you, right?”

Joey nodded, grateful. Having someone watching his back helped calm his nerves.

Corey was rarking up the crowd without saying a word. Joey watched as he spread his arms out slowly, eliciting a wall of noise that rolled over the stage in waves. There were people as far back as he could see, and wondered where it stopped. Someone had mentioned something about '80,000 people', but now, it seemed like so many more. They had played to larger crowds in continental Europe of course, but perhaps not one so passionate and rowdy.

They were gonna kick arse.

He could see Mick pacing the stage with his guitar strapped around him, and as he watched the guitarist stopped to look up at him. He waved slowly, and Joey lifted a hand in response. Mick was there, Matt was there, the crowd was pumped, and his drum kit was waiting.

It was his job to start things off. Lifting a drum stick high in the air, he relished the action as he brought it down.

Slipknot was on.


	3. Chapter 3

Joey's legs were shaking and his hands trembling as he laid down his sticks for the last time that evening. The crowd was still roaring, wanting more, but they'd played as much as they could and it was time to say thank you and goodbye.

It was one of the most intense and amazing shows they'd ever played, and Joey didn't know if it would be possible to top it. The adrenaline was still pounding through his veins and he felt fully capable of going another 10 songs, but he knew soon the exhaustion would set in. He took a swig of Powerade, then replaced the bottle and climbed down from his kit.

The lights were playing over the crowd, and in the sweeping illumination he saw their faces, passionate and adoring. He felt grateful for each and every one of them, and saluted them now, raising his hands up. They screamed out for him, parts of the crowd chanting his name, and he felt nearly overwhelmed. Mick joined him by his side, and Joey couldn't help but give him a quick hug. No sooner had they let go then Shawn enveloped him in a hug, and then Corey, Craig, Sid... It was almost blinding and overwhelming as they embraced each other, a silent tribute from member to member.

“Photo!” someone called, and they grouped together at the edge of the stage for a permanent reminder of their epic show. Joey stood behind Corey, unable to find Mick in the scramble for a spot. One, two, three photos and then they were beginning to be ushered off the stage.

Joey waved one last time before getting marched off stage with the others. Mick found him, and they walked to their dressing room together. Joey collapsed into a welcoming chair, pulling his mask off and tossing it onto an adjacent table.

“That was fucking awesome,” Mick raved, sitting down next to him. “Jesus fucking Christ. And you, you didn't miss a fucking beat. Told you you'd be amazing.”

“Yeah, well, you've always had more faith in me than I've had in myself,” Joey said wryly, smiling. He was about to compliment Mick on his guitar playing and exemplary head banging skills when Shawn barged over with beers.

“Here you two. You fucking deserved them. No-one's gonna be able to tear up that stage again like we did tonight. Drink up boys!”

Joey and Mick took the bottles gratefully, barely able to say thanks before Shawn bundled off again.

“There goes a man on a mission,” Mick said dryly before drowning most of the bottle. Joey followed suit, quenching his thirst.

The adrenaline had slowly faded away, and now Joey was left feeling battered and bruised and tired from his time behind the kit that evening. He rested his head on Mick's shoulder, watching their fellow band members celebrate. The groupies returned, much to Sid's obvious delight, the free alcohol was delivered in crates and quickly demolished, and various drugs were brought out of hiding places.

Joey felt like a shower and a clean set of clothes, but he also felt like falling asleep. As a compromise, he stayed exactly where he was until he could muster up the energy to move. Mick was comfortable, which did mean forcing himself to stay awake, but he did his best.

“Uh oh,” Joey heard Mick mutter under his breath. He looked up to see a scantily dressed groupie walking in what she probably considered a quite seductive way towards them. She had her eyes firmly set on Joey and didn't even acknowledge Mick as she approached.

“Hey Joeeeyyy. Fancy a drink?” she purred, holding up a bottle of vodka. Joey resisted the urge to hurl.

“Uh, I'm fine, thanks,” Joey said, in the politest manner he could muster, hoping she'd get the point. But, like most groupies, she didn't.

“Well... there's rum over there too. Bourbon, Jager, whiskey... unless, of course, you see something else you'd like to have...” She bent over slightly so her shirt exposed her cleavage.

Mick felt like spitting. Couldn't the stupid bitch see he wasn't interested? All they wanted was to be left alone. His frustration had nothing to do with the fact he was being totally ignored, but rather that she wouldn't leave Joey alone. His temper was starting to boil, and he decided to stand up for Joey.

“Hey, blondie,” he called. She looked over at him, clearly irritated.

“What?”

“Why don't you take your vodka, your lack of cleavage, that slutty skirt and your whore-self back over to where you belong and leave him alone? He ain't fucking interested.”

Her face grew red with anger and she gasped in horror. She looked at Joey for support, but the drummer only shrugged, smiled, jerked his finger towards Mick and said, “What he said. Good bye.”

She stiffened, looked as though she wanted to say something and thought better of it, then turned and marched off to the other side of the dressing room where a party was in full swing.

“Thanks,” Joey said to Mick, sitting up to face him.

“Any time.” Mick smiled. “I got a feeling she had a thing for you.”

They laughed together. “What makes you think that?” Joey said teasingly, leaning in closer.

“Ohhhh.... I dunno. Maybe the fact that she wanted to stick her tongue down your throat?”

“Ughhh!” Joey shuddered. “She wasn't even pretty.”

“Just imagine how many guys she's been with...”

“God stop it Mick. That's disgusting!” Joey made a face.

“She's probably slept with half the roadies in metal.”

“Mick! Enough!”

“Yeah yeah... alright then. Want some more beer?” Mick asked.

“I want to go back to the hotel.”

Mick sat up. “Yeah? You don't want to stay here and party?”

“Does it look like I want to party? If I did, I'd be over there right now. Probably with my tongue stuck down someone's throat,” Joey replied.

Mick laughed. “Good point. Stay here, I'll find someone to take us back to the hotel. There's gotta be a sober roadie around here somewhere.”

“Ok, thanks.” Joey collapsed back into his chair and waited for Mick to come back. Normally he was a pretty hard partier, but tonight he just didn't feel like it.

It didn't take too long for Mick to find someone who was happy to stop dismantling and packing their gear and drive them to the hotel. He promised to meet them around the back with the van in 10 minutes. That left only a few minutes to find Joey's bodyguard and tell him he was kidnapping him, and then get back to find the drummer himself and take him outside.

Matt was supervising the crew loading the road cases, and nodded at Mick as the guitarist approached him.

“Everything alright?” the bodyguard asked.

“Yeah. Just wanted to let you know I'm going to take Joey back to the hotel. He's pretty tired.”

Matt nodded. “Ok. I know there's a group of fans around the back so I'll come give a hand with them. He in the dressing room?”

“Yup.”

Matt left the supervision to another member of security and followed Mick as he made his way back to Slipknot's area. At first he thought Joey was asleep, but the drummer opened his eyes as he heard Mick come in.

“Hey. Find someone?”

“Yup. We're leaving in 5. Got all your shit?”

Joey scrambled around for his bag, not bothering to change out of his stage outfit. The wardrobe chicks could have it back later. Matt grabbed his bag to carry it for him, as Mick found his own, and then the trio made their way out of the room.

As promised, the van was waiting for them, and as Matt had promised, there was also a large group of fans. Reluctant to just push through the crowd and leave, Mick and Joey stayed for a while to sign autographs and take photos. Matt controlled the crowd as they catered to every single fan who was waiting.

Satisfied with their efforts, Mick and Joey piled into the van and apologised to the roadie, who they quickly discovered was actually asleep. Mick woke him with a quick blast of the horn, much to Matt's horror as he thought something was wrong. Joey quickly reassured him, and the bodyguard gave an unrepentant Mick a serious look. Mick only waved a hand out of the window as they drove off.

“I think you may have pissed him off,” Joey commented.

“Well, considering we are technically his employers, what can he do?” Mick said almost smugly.

“Make your life hell, that's what,” Joey said, laughing.

“I'd like to see him try...” Mick said, before laughing along with Joey.

It was a 20 minute drive to the hotel, so Joey settled down in the backseat with Mick. It was comfortable and private, and he appreciated the peace and quiet. He was looking forward to a hot shower and his bed.

“What you thinking about?” Mick asked him quietly.

“A shower. And bed. Maybe some rum.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“God, we're extreme, aren't we?” Joey said after a pause. “I mean... everyone else is partying and fucking and taking drugs, and we're gonna go shower and sleep. What happened Mick? Where did we go wrong?”

“We didn't go wrong, Jo. We're just... different.”

Joey snorted. “Yeah, we suck.”

“There's nothing wrong with sucking,” Mick said.

“There might be something wrong with that sentence, though,” Joey pointed out with a raised eyebrow. Mick looked at him before they both burst out laughing.

They faded into a comfortable silence for the rest of the trip, and it wasn't long before Joey found himself dozing off. He lay against Mick and closed his eyes, quite willing to give in to sleep.

Mick peered out the window, not able to see much but appreciating the occasional glances of anything lit. He put his arm around Joey, idly playing with the drummer's long hair. It didn't surprise him Joey was asleep. He did have the hardest job after all, something that the others sometimes forgot about. There had been times where Joey had to come to him, exhausted during studio rehearsals or practices, and Mick had had to put his hand up and make them let Joey have a break.

He let his mind drift as the van drove. It was a good time to be able to think, when there was really no one else around. He wasn't tired like Joey, just comfortably satiated. He would sleep well later though.

“We're here,” the roadie called from up front as he pulled up to the hotel.

“Wake up, Jo,” Mick said as he shook his shoulders gently.

“Huh? Whaaa?” Joey said sleepily, pulling himself upright.

“We're at the hotel,” Mick told him quietly.

“Oh. Yay.” Joey dashed out of the van faster than Mick was expecting, considering his sleepiness just a moment ago. Mick pulled their bags out – of course, Joey had forgotten his – and followed.

“Thanks dude,” he said to the roadie, poking his head in through the window.

“No problem! See you next show.”

“Sure. Bye!” Mick would have waved, but he couldn't with two bags.

Joey was waiting for him by the doors, smiling sheepishly when he saw that Mick had his bag. “Oh... thanks. I forgot.”

“You usually do,” Mick said, smiling at him as they entered the building. He refused to let Joey take it. They rode the elevator up to the 11th floor with an Asian couple, who couldn't help but stare at them. Mick and Joey were well used to it though, and just ignored the glances. They knew they looked odd, and probably smelt worse.

Joey's room was closest. He'd drawn the single this time, much to his delight. Corey had tried to swap him for it, but Joey couldn't let it go.

“Want to come in?” Joey asked Mick as they stopped outside the door. “Raid the minibar?”

“Sure,” Mick said. He had nothing better to do. Joey swiped the key through the lock and warned Mick about the mess before they entered.

And what a mess. It looked as though Joey had stood on the bed and opened his suitcase whilst twirling around on the spot.

“What the hell...” Mick said as he stopped abruptly. Jeans littered the floor, dozens of shirts were laid out haphazardly on the bed, and bottles of make-up were scattered on the dresser.

“Uh, I was running late and looking for something,” Joey said apologetically, bending down to pick up a pair of boxers and tossing them into his open suitcase. “I didn't have time to clean up.”

“I guess not.”

“Uh, find a spot to sit!”

Yeah. Easier said than done.


	4. Chapter 4

Mick lay on the bed watching a documentary on serial killers while Joey took his time in the shower. He'd popped down to his own room for a shower when Joey announced he was going to have one, partly because he felt filthy and partly because he knew Joey would take ages and he might as well do something useful while he was waiting.

Sure enough, when he got back into the room, the shower was still running. He resisted the urge to bang on the door, it would only piss Joey off. Instead, he picked a pile of clothes up off the bed and made some room to lay down. He was pleased to see the documentary on, considering his obsession.

He was so engrossed in the program he didn't hear the water being switched off in the bathroom or Joey blow-drying his hair. It wasn't until the door creaked open that he realised Joey was finished. The drummer stood there with only a towel covering his waist, and like earlier in the dressing room, Mick couldn't help but stare.

Joey's skin was pale and smooth, unmarked by blemishes or ink. He was tiny but fit, with no hint of unnecessary fat. His hair was thick and glossy and fell perfectly, nearly down to his waist.

“Find something interesting?” Joey asked.

“Uh.. what?” Mick stumbled, horrified that he'd been caught staring.

“The TV. What are you watching?”

“Oh.” _Thank god_. “Yeah. Something about serial killers. It's great,” he said in relief.

Joey smiled. “What did you think I meant?” he said, somewhat coyly, before moving over to rummage through his clothes.

 _Oh shit_. “Uh, nothing.”

“Don't lie,” Joey said from the floor.

“I was just confused, that's all,” Mick said, struggling to come up with a good excuse. Joey knew full well what he was playing at. Sure enough, the drummer stood up with a smile.  
“You were staring at me.”

Mick was lost for words. Yes, he was, but he couldn't very well say it. Could he? Joey didn't look angry at all. If anything, he seemed happy about it. Mick swallowed his pride.  
“Uh, yeah, I was. Sorry.”

“Don't be sorry!” Joey said. “And anyway, I was just teasing. Don't worry so much about it,” he said playfully, hopping onto the bed next to Mick.

Joey was well aware he was practically naked. He was also well aware of the effect he was having on Mick. Of course he'd seen the way Mick had looked at him when he'd opened the bathroom door, and it'd sent warm feelings tingling down his body. He _wanted_ Mick to look at him like that. It made him feel good.

But he didn't want to do anything drastic that would destroy the relationship he had with Mick. They were very close friends, but it had never gone beyond that. It was only recently that Joey had wanted it to be more. He was bi, and had always batted for both teams, but Mick was as straight as anyone he knew. So he knew it would probably never happen. But then... as Mick had stared at him... he thought that _maybe_ , just _maybe_...

Was it worth it? To try? To see what would happen? At the risk of destroying one of the most precious relationships he'd had with anyone? And if he was rejected, how would that make him feel? But if he _did_ try, and it _did_ happen... how could he not take that possibility?

“Joey? Are you ok?” Mick asked him, concerned. The drummer had gone awfully quiet, and Mick couldn't think why.

“Uh, yeah, I'm fine,” Joey said quickly, flashing him a smile that Mick knew wasn't genuine.

“You don't seem fine to me...” Mick said slowly.

Joey sighed and flopped back onto the bed. “I can't tell you.”

Mick was confused. He and Joey had never had a problem telling each other anything. He'd told Joey things he'd never told anyone else. He couldn't imagine what it was that Joey couldn't tell him.

“Why can't you tell me?” he asked, a little hurt that Joey wouldn't open up.

“Because it's about you,” Joey said quietly, his voice wavering. An intense sadness was descending over him, and he felt awful. He felt Mick come closer to him on the bed.

“If it's about me... shouldn't you tell me?”

“No, because I don't want to hurt you.” And then Joey knew he was going to cry. He curled up, holding his hands over his eyes.

“Joey... please tell me!” Mick pleaded, not liking the fact that Joey seemed so upset. “I don't like seeing you like this.” Trying to comfort his friend, he rubbed Joey's back slowly. “Please tell me,” he whispered.

It was almost unbearable. Joey wanted him so badly, but he didn't want to lose him. Mick didn't know what he was doing to Joey by the simple act of touching him. He just didn't know what to do, and he knew he couldn't take much more.

Joey rolled over so he was looking up at Mick. The guitarist looked down at him in surprise at the sudden movement, having had to rescue his hand in the nick of time. He settled for rubbing Joey's shoulder instead. He noticed that Joey closed his eyes as his hand met his skin. An inkling of what this might be about started to push at the corner of his mind. He started to experiment, gliding his hand across Joey's collarbone.

He could see the drummer take deeper breaths as he explored his chest, confirming his thoughts. He understood now why Joey didn't want to tell him. The room suddenly seemed very warm, and he shifted on the bed to be closer to Joey. His hand roamed downwards, over Joey's stomach, feeling the hard muscles beneath his skin. Joey was squirming on the bed, his finger nails digging into his palms.

His eyes closed, body alert and crying out for the attention, Joey basked in Mick's touch. He could barely think, barely breathe. Mick knew exactly what he needed and there was no way on earth he was going to say 'no'. The guitarist's hand was rubbing his stomach, and Joey willed it to go down, to explore him even further. He shocked when Mick removed his hand.

“What...?” Joey asked, his eyes open and looking at Mick. The guitarist didn't say anything, just stood up to flick off the light and the tv. The bedside lamp was on, so they could still see, but suddenly it was a lot more... _romantic_. Mick pulled his shirt off, adding to the pile of clothes on the floor, before climbing back onto the bed. He lay down next to Joey, one arm around his head and the other resuming the pattern he was rubbing on his stomach.

“Do you like that?” Mick asked Joey quietly, as he saw the drummer close his eyes and moan softly.

“Yess...” Joey hissed. “Go lower... please!”

Mick obliged. His progress was halted by the towel, so he pulled it open. Joey was erect, and Mick felt his stomach swoop. He slid his hand down to caress him.

“Joey?” he breathed. The drummer opened his blue eyes to look at him. Mick didn't say any more, just pressed his lips to Joey's. He kissed him slowly and lovingly as he ran his hand up and down Joey's hard-on, the precum dripping from him dampening his hand.

“Oh, oh, oh...” Joey whimpered, his body starting to jerk. He broke the kiss to roll closer to Mick, laying his head against his chest.

“Shit... you're gonna make me cum...” he moaned, the familiar feeling starting to roll through his body. He gasped as the white fluid jetted onto his skin, pleasure swamping him.

Mick held him close until he stopped jerking. He kissed his hair, feeling his own body reacting to Joey's orgasm. The drummer rolled back onto his pillow, panting for breath and staring happily up at Mick.

“Did you like _that_?” Mick asked playfully, bending down to kiss him.

“God yes,” Joey said, laughing. “Jesus Christ.” He watched as Mick stood up, an obvious bulge in the front of his jeans. Despite his very recent orgasm, his arousal spiked.

“Where are your condoms?” Mick asked, realising he didn't have any on him.

“In my blue bag. Just over on that table,” Joey said, pointing to the bag in question. “Front pocket.”

Mick found a box and a bottle of lube, and brought both over, settling them on the bedside table. He unbuckled his jeans, sliding them down his legs and discarding them along with his boxers.

Joey lifted himself off his towel and chucked it away. He waited for Mick to join him, not able to tear his eyes away from the guitarist's prominent erection. He knew he was big, but _Christ_... Mick smiled when he realised what Joey was looking at. He had that effect on a lot of people. He climbed back on the bed, about to lay down beside Joey when the drummer indicated he should stay where he was.

Mick was quite happy to obey when he realised Joey wanted a closer look. The drummer ran his hands up Mick's cock, marvelling at its size.

“Wow...” Joey breathed, amazed.

Mick only smiled, and then gasped as Joey leaned forward to flick his tongue over the head. He licked him slowly, teasing him, before taking Mick in his mouth. He was too big to deep-throat, so Joey sucked him gently, his hand jerking him off at the base.

“Fuck yeah... Joey....” Mick moaned, his hands holding Joey's head gently. His friend knew what he was doing, that was for sure. Just as Joey had came reasonably quickly, he knew he wasn't far off.

“Joey... baby... stop,” he breathed. Joey looked up in disappointment, worried he'd done something wrong. “I want to fuck you.”

Joey smiled. He sat back on the bed, watching as Mick rolled a condom over his cock. The guitarist grabbed the bottle of lube and crawled over to him.

“You've done this before, right?”

Joey nodded. “Yeah.”

“I just don't want to hurt you,” Mick said, leaning forward to kiss him twice.

“I'll be ok, just go slow.”

“You wanna do it like this?” Mick said, indicating their current position.

“Yeah. I want to be able to see you.”

“Good,” Mick said gruffly, not sure he could wait much longer.

Joey lay back against the pillows, spreading his legs for Mick.

“Shit... you look so good like that,” Mick muttered, incapable of normal speech. He fumbled with the bottle of lube, squirting it over his fingers. He rubbed a finger gently against Joey's entrance, watching his face as the pleasure took hold. Joey pushed out slowly and Mick found his finger buried inside him, and started to wriggle it. Joey cried out, unable to stop his hips jerking at the movement.

“God... oh fucking God!!!” Joey moaned as Mick fingered him. His body was crying out to have Mick inside him, but he knew if he didn't put up with the preparation it would surely hurt too much.

Mick inserted another finger, and then another. He was as desperate to get on with it as Joey was, but like the drummer, knew he could easily hurt him if he wasn't careful. He brought his fingers out, then slid them back in, scissoring them gently to stretch Joey even more. His cock was leaking into the condom, so erect it was almost painful. Unable to wait any longer, he slid his fingers out of Joey.

He poured a little lube over Joey's entrance, and then over his cock. Content that he had done his best, he maneuvered himself until he was over Joey, his hands resting either side of his head. He felt one of Joeys' hands grip his waist, and the other slide around his cock. He let Joey guide him to his entrance.

Slowly, carefully, he pushed inside. He watched Joey's face for signs he was going too fast or he was hurting him, but there was only pleasure and concentration as he guided Mick inside him.

“Oh fuck yes...” Joey moaned, and Mick knew he was in as far as he could go. He pulled back slowly, before thrusting back in. It was tight, and hot, and the most incredible thing Mick had ever done. Joey was crying out for him, his hands around Mick's neck, and the guitarist leaned down to kiss him to the rhythm of their fucking.

Joey curled his legs up around Mick's waist, allowing him to get deeper and thrust harder. The guitarist could barely believe Joey could take him, but the drummer was in such ecstasy there could be no doubt. He kept his thrusting slow at first, but let it gain momentum until he was pounding into the tiny body beneath him.

Joey was screaming, his cries undecipherable. Mick was doing it just right, touching him just the way he needed to be touched. He could feel Mick slide in and out of him, and the just the thought of what they were doing was enough to drive him crazy.

“Oh shit... I'm gonna cum... Mick... fuck me!”

Mick responded to Joey's pleas by going even faster, his own orgasm fast approaching. He opened his eyes in time to see Joey's face contort in ecstasy, and felt him cum around his cock. It was too much for him and he followed, his orgasm wracking his body.

He lay still for a moment, bracing himself above Joey, but knowing his strength was fading. He hauled himself up onto the bed beside Joey, pulling off the condom and wrapping it in tissue paper.

“That was amazing,” Joey whispered as he lay back down again. Mick only smiled and kissed him, holding him in his arms.

“Why couldn't you tell me you liked me?” Mick asked quietly, stroking Joey's hair.

“Because I was afraid you wouldn't like me back, and wouldn't want to be around me anymore,” Joey admitted. “I didn't want to lose you.”

“Oh, Joey...” Mick leaned in to kiss him again.

They lay together for a little while, kissing and talking and touching each other. Mick was happy just to be with Joey, but he could feel himself start to grow hard again as he rubbed Joey's thighs.

“Baby...?” Mick asked as he sat up.

“Yeah... please...” Joey said as he saw Mick's erection. The guitarist slid on another condom from the packet, lubing himself up. This time, Joey got up on his knees and turned around, facing the wall. It was only a few seconds before he felt Mick's hands grip his waist and his cock start to breach his entrance again.

“Ohhhhh....” Joey moaned as Mick slid inside him again. It was easier the second time, and now he could just relax and enjoy the sensation. Mick kept up a steady rhythm, thrusting into him at a careful pace. Joey whimpered each time Mick slid into him, his body slick with sweat.

Mick kissed Joey's neck, sucking and licking at the damp, hot skin. He enjoyed being so close to Joey, and making him feel so good.

“Tell me when you're gonna cum,” he whispered in Joey's ear, increasing his pace a little. Joey responded with a moan, thrusting his hips back towards Mick. His hand enclosed his erection and he jerked himself off.

“Yes... yes... yes....” Joey moaned, leaning back against Mick as the guitarist angled deeper. “Ohhhh....”

“Are you gonna cum?” Mick asked, pressing him close.

“Yes! Oh fuck... fuck me!”

Mick increased his rhythm, pounding into him. This time, he came first, holding himself deep inside Joey. The drummer cried out for the last time, cumming hard into his hand.

“Shit.... shit shit shit....” Joey breathed, holding his hand against the wall for support. His legs were so shaky he wasn't sure if he could hold himself up for much longer. Mick came to his rescue, pulling him down to the bed with him. Joey rolled into his arms, exhausted.

“Go to sleep, baby,” Mick whispered in his ear, kissing his cheek.

Despite his tiredness, Joey didn't want to go to sleep. He wanted to savour the feeling of laying in Mick's arms, of being _with_ him. His hands crawled over Mick's arms and his chest, touching him softly, the physical connection meaning more to Joey than the guitarist could ever know. He could feel Mick's heart beating, still laboured from sex, his damp, warm skin testament to that. Then patient hands closed over his, and he was pulled into a close embrace.

Joey lay his head against Mick's chest, and closed his eyes tightly, but not to sleep. He wanted to think but couldn't, his mind flashing from one thing to another. It was all quite overwhelming, and it was hard to gather his thoughts together. It was almost surreal, like a dream, and he wasn't sure what was real and what was not.

He could feel though, and think and touch, and Mick was _there_. Under his palms. So close, like they belonged together.

And they did.


End file.
